


I Missed You

by Ghostinthehouse



Series: Demon and Angel Professors [143]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Professors, Disabled Crowley (Good Omens), M/M, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:22:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28026975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghostinthehouse/pseuds/Ghostinthehouse
Summary: Adam hauled his bag out of the Bentley and waved Crowley off before turning back to his and Warlock's home.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Warlock Dowling/Adam Young
Series: Demon and Angel Professors [143]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1412962
Comments: 35
Kudos: 632
Collections: Aspec-friendly Good Omens





	I Missed You

"Aziraphale! Where are you?"

Only the flames answered, with a crackle of mocking laughter. He drew breath to shout again, and woke to the sight of the hotel wall. He lay still, forcing his breathing to steadiness, and finally reached for his phone. Aziraphale's face greeted him on the lockscreen, caught in a moment of icecream bliss. He stared at it, hardly blinking, and his free hand gripped the empty sheet beside him.

"Crowley?" Adam asked drowsily from across the room. "You ok?"

Crowley didn't move. "Go back to sleep, Adam," he said. "It's too early to get up." He didn't turn off his phone.

***

Adam hauled his bag out of the Bentley and waved Crowley off before turning back to his and Warlock's home. Warlock met him with a smile.

Adam smiled tiredly back. "Miss me?"

"So much. You ok?" They drew him in and closed the door on the world.

"Tired," Adam mumbled. "Didn't sleep well. Long day."

"Aw."

"Don't think Crowley slept much either, but he seems to deal with it better." Adam dropped onto the sofa, muffling a yawn. "Could have sworn he had a nightmare, but when I looked, he was just on his phone."

"Did he scream?"

"Did he _what_?"

"I'll take that as a no," Warlock said. "And if he wasn't screaming, it wasn't that bad a night... at least by his standards. Don't make a fuss about it."

"No?"

"Just because his standards aren't our standards doesn't make them any less of his normal... Do you like it every time someone assumes you being different means it's wrong?"

"Fair point." Adam let his head fall back. "What do you want to do about dinner?"

***

"Aziraphale?" Crowley called, letting the door close behind him. "Where are you?"

"Main room!" Aziraphale called back.

Crowley dropped his bag to the side and wandered back to the living room, feasting his eyes on his living, breathing, angel.

Aziraphale beamed back at him. "I have dinner sorted for us, by the way."

"Oh?" Crowley took a slow breath, but smelled nothing burning.

"I got that curry you like. Don't worry, nothing burned. I'm perfectly capable of using the miniwave, dearest."

Crowley gave him a look of fond exasperation, and dropped onto the sofa. "Microwave, angel. It's called a microwave."

"Well, it's never waved at me, I thought I'd encourage it to make its gestures bigger." Aziraphale's eyes gleamed.

"Bastard," Crowley mumbled. "Missed you, you know."

"I know." Aziraphale bustled off to the kitchen and came back with plates of food. "What would you like with it?"

Crowley gave him a tired smile. "You."

"Oh. Well, in that case." Aziraphale folded himself onto the sofa beside Crowley and passed over a Crowley-sized portion of curry and rice and a fork, saving his husband from having to run all the mental assessments so common with meals. (Does it have anything I can't eat? How painful will it be to chew? Do I like it enough to make the effort? Is the portion size too big/too small/wrong proportions for comfort? Will I be judged for wanting changes?)

Crowley shoveled it down with gratitude, and sat back with a sigh to watch Aziraphale finish his rather larger portion. The tension was unwinding from his muscles for the first time in days, and his eyes drooped in weary response.

Aziraphale took the empty plates and stacked them on the coffee table, then lifted his arm. "Come over here, dearest. I can tell you're worn out."

Crowley shifted round until he was curled against his angel's side as much as his leg would permit, and let his exhaustion drive out the last of the weekend's strain. His cheek rested on Aziraphale's soft, broad, shoulder, and the scent of him filled his nose in a constant reminder that he was safe and protected and home. He drifted into sleep to the sound of his angel's breathing, and the feel of fingers carding their way gently through his hair.


End file.
